


goop

by quellthefire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, BDSM, Basically monster fucking without the monster, Falling In Love, Getting Together, It Makes Sense When You Read It, Kinda sorta symbiote fic but not really, Kinky, Lube, M/M, Messy Filthy Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Steve is a kinky motherfucker and Tony is just happy to be along for the ride, Stony - Freeform, Sweet and fluffy but also nasty sex, Top Steve Rogers, Wet & Messy, Workshop sex, wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quellthefire/pseuds/quellthefire
Summary: Steve and Tony head home after a battle with a green Symbiote with particularly unusual abilities.What starts as a plan to synthesize a copy of it’s slimy green telekinetic tendrils turns into a hell of a lot more than Tony ever expected or hoped for.





	goop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jwolf18791](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwolf18791/gifts).



> Written as a birthday present for my incredible dumpling. She always reads my fics before I post them, and I kept teasing her with tiny hints of what this gift would be. 
> 
> So Happy Birthday! Thank you for being an absolutely amazing part of my life. You’re my soulmate in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine when we first became friends and I love you so much. 
> 
> Sorry it’s not finished yet, but there’s still plenty of messy slick sex to come.

The slime dripped on Tony’s shoulder, green and viscous. He shuddered from the chill of it, and raised a hand to wipe it away.

They were standing in the middle of what used to be a busy New York intersection, but was now mostly rubble and a surprising amount of the same green goo that was splattered over both of them. Tony had it worst, it clumped in his hair, oozing slowly down his face and neck. 

He jiggled his hand trying to get the sticky fluid off. It wasn’t particularly effective, and speckled even more across his Iron Man-suited torso. “Well fuck, somehow this stuff leaked into the armor and definitely drenched my suit. Brand new Tom Ford. Just had it custom made and I didn’t have time to get changed when we got the call. Don’t suppose dry cleaning would work, huh?”

Tony glanced at Steve, who had smears of the stuff on his face and drying into his Cap suit. Steve shook his head and said, “Probably not, Tones, I think these clothes are going to have to be trashed. I’m honestly trying to figure out how we’re gonna get this out of our hair.”

Steve shuddered, trying in earnest to fling what once was the Symbiote they’d just fought off from his bare flesh. When they got the call that there was a disturbance in lower Manhattan, they knew some kind of green humanoid was rampaging, but they hadn’t expected it’s tentacle-like appendages or the thick mire that coated it’s amorphous skin.

Tony made a face as he spread out his fingers, watching as the goop clung to the metal gauntlet. The Symbiote was definitely dead, exploded into a billion fractions by a sonic amplifier, thanks to some quick thinking on his part. They’d never fought a Symbiote before, but he’d been keeping tabs on Eddie Brock and Venom ever since they came onto his radar, and he’d learned enough to know that the creatures hated certain ranges of sound. He’d jacked up the amplification on his suit’s speakers, and with the help of Steve’s shield as a makeshift parabolic concentrator, they’d been able to seperate the alien creature from the host body it had taken over. Without a host to take shelter in, combined with the high decibels, the green Symbiote hadn’t stood a chance. It was worth the ringing in their ears to stop half of Canal Street from being ripped to shreds.

It was a shame, really. They hadn’t wanted it to end this way. Tony knew it was possible for Symbiotes to live peacefully with their chosen human hosts. Eddie and Venom were proof of that. But their case seemed to be an outlier. From his understanding, most of the Symbiote population viewed humans as a resource to be sucked dry and thrown away when they’d served their purpose. This one certainly had that approach. He and Steve had tried to reason with it, tried to find out what it wanted. But what it wanted, apparently, was to destroy half of Lower Manhattan and use it’s many hosts up while it basked in the fun it was having. Tony felt a pang of regret that it had to end this way, but this Symbiote, with its oozing sludge and whip-like tentacles didn’t want to be reasoned with, and ultimately they had to do what they’d been attempting to prevent.

Despite the viscous fluid no longer belonging to a sentient Symbiote, it had a rather uncanny quality, almost like it was still moving on it’s own. If you looked at in the right light, it seemed to be swirling just slightly, reaching upwards and outwards, not unlike the tendrils that had lashed out from the being it once belonged to. Tony had read theories about alien fluid dynamics. The leading theories posited that some fluids from other parts of the galaxy might behave in very strange, non-earth ways, even when on earth. He’d not had the opportunity to study them yet, but he supposed now was as good a time as any to brush up on xenophysics. Besides, he had a feeling this stuff might be a useful tool if he could synthesize its properties.

“So much for getting shawarma after this,” Steve said regretfully. “I feel like I need to shower for the next decade.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Cap. Afterall, I thought that was my job. Can’t have you going all soft on me now.” Tony shot him a cocky grin as he spoke, and he loved the eye roll Steve gave in response. “So sassy, Rogers, what would America think about their favorite heart throb if they knew he was a sarcastic bastard half the time?”

Steve shot him a warning glare, “And what would they think if they found out their favorite cocky billionaire was a nerd who spends most nights tinkering in his workshop when he’s not arguing with Clint over which Star Trek movie is superior? Would really put a damper on that playboy image if they knew you hadn’t been out on a date in years.”

“Ouch, you hurt my pride, Steve. Besides, you know that my one true love is Rhodey Bear. Too bad he’s off cavorting with Carol and doesn’t have time for me anymore.” He gave a mock pout and batted his eyelashes. 

Steve chuckled in spite of himself. “Somehow I think you’ll survive. Besides, you have me. And you love antagonizing me.”

“That I do,” Tony agreed. “Besides, you’re way more fun to tease. You get this lovely little vein on the side of your temple when you’re trying not to laugh, look, there it is!” He pointed with a goopy green finger at Steve’s forehead, unintentionally smearing the stuff onto his soft skin when he misjudged the distance between him and Steve. “Oops?” He grimaced exaggeratedly as it clung to what had previously been clean skin, and Steve sighed, grasping onto his wrist to remove Tony’s finger from his temple. 

“That’s it,” Steve’s voice was part amused, part exhausted. “We’re going home, and I’m going to take a shower and scrub until I can’t feel my skin anymore. And I’m going to pray that Symbiote doesn’t stain.”

Thankfully, the slime came off fairly easily with soap and water. Something about the molecules of the alien ooze worked surprisingly similar to oil molecules, Tony posited. Before his shower he had managed to slough off a fair amount of it into a container for further study, and he was glad he’d had the forethought to save it. This stuff was fascinating. 

Steve had spent quite a long time in the shower, Tony noticed. Usually he was the one to be in and out in under 5 minutes, probably a holdover from his days of scarcity as a boy, Tony assumed. But he’d been in there for more than an hour, with no sign of being done. 

Tony was the one who usually lavished under the warm water, letting it steam up until he could hardly breathe from the heat. He loved to crank up the temperature until it felt like his skin might melt off his bones. It was calming and eased his aching muscles at the end of a long day fighting to protect New York. He didn’t even mind the jabs that came from Nat and Clint about what he spent all that time in the shower doing. That was his business and if he happened to partake in a little fantasizing while scrubbing off the day’s grime, then so be it. And sure, maybe sometimes the fantasies would include a certain blonde haired blue eyed hunk of All-American muscle. All right, those sometimes had turned into every time recently. But no one needed to know that. This was his time, and he could fantasize about whoever he damn well pleased, thank you very much. 

And the fact that the very object of his sudsy fantasies was still showering was not lost on Tony. In all reality Steve was probably just grossed out from the result of the fight and was making good on his statement about taking a long hot shower to get clean. But part of Tony wanted to believe that Steve was having a little fantasy time himself. 

Maybe he was lathering himself up with that light, clean scented soap he preferred, letting his hands wander across his taut, creamy skin? Maybe his hands would glide over the curve of his hips or his perfect plump ass? And just maybe they’d find purchase on his growing cock, thick and swollen from lust. Steve would touch himself softly at first, maybe even hesitantly. He’d probably feel guilty for giving in to such base desires. But it would feel so good that he’d have to give in. He’d lean into his own touch, letting his fingers dance across the head of his cock, teasing himself, grasping onto the shaft as he let out a sigh of pleasure. 

And just maybe he’d think of Tony as he stroked himself, groaning into the sensation of tight pressure building in the base of his gorgeous, huge cock. He’d chase after that feeling, letting himself get just up against the point of release, but then back down, slowing the tempo of his strokes, lightening the pressure of his hand. Steve was such a fucking smart-ass when he wanted to be, and it wouldn’t surprise Tony at all if he loved to make a game of it, to toy with himself and challenge himself to see how long he could last through the delicious agony of it all. 

The thought of it made Tony hard all over again, and he could imagine the look on Steve’s face as he finally gave in, finally let himself have the release he’d been chasing. His eyes would close with a slight pained expression, but his mouth would be quirked up into a lewd smile. He’d clench his jaw and let it ride through him like waves, not stopping his frantic hand until he’d milked every last drop from his swollen cock. He’d lean back against the wall of the shower, panting a little, half delirious from the high of coming. And the water would keep rushing over his sculpted body, washing away the remnants of soap as he came down from euphoria. 

Tony shook his head, trying to jar the distracting thoughts from his mind. He settled into his workshop and cleared space to start working. But they lingered in the back of his thoughts, right next to the idle debate about what to have for lunch, and how to approach studying the xenofluid. He was good at compartmentalizing. Probably too good for his own benefit. He could tuck that thrilling set of mental images away for now. They could always be revisited later, he reasoned. Now just wasn’t the time for those kinds of ideas. He had work to do.

He settled into his chair at the workbench and picked up the jar of acrid green Symbiote slime. It almost seemed to pulse, but Tony couldn’t tell if that was just his imagination. He knew there was nothing left of the Symbiote it had once been secreted from, he’d immediately run tests to check that when they returned to the Tower. But there was something odd about this stuff. And he wanted to figure out how it worked. 

He got lost in the work, didn’t hear when Steve finally got out of the shower, didn’t hear the rest of the team coming back from the mission they’d been out on during the Symbiote fight Tony and Steve had responded to. Didn’t even hear when Steve padded barefoot into the workshop with steaming cups of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. 

“Brought you some food and coffee. Figured you’d be here all night and would forget to eat,” Steve’s voice was low and calming, but it startled Tony all the same. “Sorry Tones, I know you get caught up in the work and don’t always hear us come in.”

Tony eased back into his chair, let his heartbeat calm a bit, and then gratefully accepted the coffee. Steve had slid it across the table to him, knowing he was uncomfortable being handed things. It was yet another way Steve showed he paid attention. The other Avengers forgot half the time, and Tony was pretty sure Clint intentionally found reasons to hand him things just to fuck with him. But Steve was always careful to set things down and slide them to him, every single time. It was one of the numerous reasons he had fallen for Steve, not that he’d ever admit to it. 

Despite their many differences, and man, there were a lot, Steve just understood him. Could anticipate what he needed before he could voice it. They clicked in a way Tony didn’t with most people. And he had a feeling Steve felt the same way. He’d had a hard transition into the modern world. He was good at faking it, but Tony knew better. Knew he’d felt stupid and slow when faced with simple things like an ATM or microwave settings. He was one of the smartest people Tony knew, but he was at a huge disadvantage for not having grown up with modern technology. 

Steve would avoid asking for help, would pretend he didn’t actually want to watch the movie he was struggling to pull Netflix up to watch, or didn’t need help setting up an email account, but Tony knew he was avoiding things because it was easier than admitting he needed help. The world saw him as this big dumb blonde with sexy muscles, and while Tony had to admit the sexy part was spot on, Steve was anything but dumb. He could calculate the right angle and speed to throw his shield in his head, in the middle of combat. He could still quote practically every line from movies he’d grown up seeing in the 30s and 40s. And he could keep up with Bruce and Tony when they talked science, albeit with a few pauses on their part to explain the specifics of quantum theory and the like. 

Basically, Steve’s mind was a super computer that had just missed a few updates along the way. But it pained Tony to know that Steve was floundering when it came to things like the self checkout at the grocery store, so he’d started offering to help him, to teach him things. At first Steve had politely declined, said he was getting along just fine. But Tony kept offering, and eventually Steve started accepting his help. 

Tony wasn’t quite sure when the switch flipped, but at some unremembered point it went from polite empathy to him actually caring for Steve. He found himself looking forward to talking to him. Would miss him when he had to travel for work. Would feel a sigh of relief when he got to see him again. He started waking up earlier to have breakfast with Steve. Stopped spending as much time in his workshop, stopped obsessing over work to fill the empty spots in his life.

At some unknown point he started loving Steve. 

And it was easy. Easy to love him. Easy to tease him and flirt and wish for more. Easy to imagine what their life could be like if he had the guts to tell him. Easy to imagine what it would be like for Steve to love him back. 

But that was the crux of it. They were friends. Maybe even best friends. They’d never really defined it, but they were friends. Tony didn’t want to ruin that. Didn’t want to risk what they had. So he kept silent, didn’t let himself feel the emotions he knew ran deep. This was easier, he told himself. Because the alternative was too much.

So they joked around and teased each other and Tony pretended not to notice the way his heart raced when Steve gave him small shy smiles, pretended not to love Steve.

And Steve showed he cared in little ways. Maybe that could be enough for now?

Tony smiled up at him as they sipped their coffee. Steve had perched himself on the desk, his full lips curving into a sweet expression as he drank from his mug. He looked freshly scrubbed and delectable. Tony could see the water droplets still shining in his hair and the slight flush he always got after emerging from a steaming shower. It was adorable and made him want Steve all the more.

“So what’s with the jar of slime?” Steve finally asked, prodding the glass container with a tentative finger. The ooze shimmered, almost appeared to morph in response to his obstructed touch. “Don’t tell me that thing’s still alive in there?” His face scrunched up in distaste.

“No, see that’s the thing, I isolated the secretions that came from it, that’s merely, symbiote byproduct, I guess you could say?” Tony picked up the jar, holding it up to the light. It appeared to shy away from the glow of the lamp. “This was never really the symbiote, more of a, discharge I guess? But it appears to have been able to control it. I believe it’s what formed those tentacle-like appendages. I’ve been studying these guys for a while now, and while most of them can shape their form into tentacle like shapes, this guy was able to produce them separate from himself, almost like a mind control telekinesis kind of situation. I knew it was plausible in theory, but to see it in action, I mean, you fought this guy, it was…”

“Bizarre. And gross, did you just use the words secretion and discharge Tony?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Not like that that Cap, you gotta remember, these are xeno-lifeforms. Their biology is totally different from ours. That’s the best words I have to describe it, but it’s not gross at all, it’s kind of beautiful honestly, like if you or I could manifest liquid mercury and control it with a single thought. And besides, I’m going to synthesize it. I don’t think there’s a lot more of these type of symbiotes out there, but I have some theories about how to replicate it with a little help from this guy,” he tapped his chest, and Steve looked down to see the soft blue glow of his arc reactor. Tony could have sworn Steve’s eyes lingered on his chest, before he swallowed and turned his focus back to Tony’s face. “I need a huge power source to pull this off, and thankfully I just developed a new prototype for Mark VII.”

Steve’s eyes were fixated on Tony as he spoke, it made his heart do funny things and he could feel heat rising to his face. Nevertheless, he kept explaining his plan, answering Steve’s questions and bouncing ideas off of him for the mathematical calculations that might come into play. 

Eventually Tony settled into working on his plan, and Steve moved to a plush chair that he’d dragged into the workshop months ago. He pulled out a sketchbook and charcoal that he’d stashed as well, and began sketching.

Tony never knew what Steve drew, never felt comfortable asking, to be honest. He’d been tempted more than once to glance through the book when Steve wasn’t there, but no, he’d be respectful of Steve’s privacy. If he wanted to show Tony what he worked on in the workshop then he would, but until then Tony would do the right thing and resist. Even if it got mighty hard to resist temptation sometimes.

Occasionally he’d register Steve shifting in his chair, or a quiet cough or muttering, but mostly they worked in silence, lost in their respective work.

Tony found that his inventions turned out better when Steve was around. He was calmer and more clear headed about the task at hand, and it didn’t hurt to have someone to bounce occasional ideas off of. They made a good team, on and off the battlefield, Tony was realizing.

Tony lost track of time, and it wasn’t until Steve was prodding him gently that he was stirred from his laser-focus. Steve looked exhausted, and Tony suddenly felt the way he looked. He’d poured all his energy into the battle and the synthesizing process afterwards. He hadn’t stopped to consider the strain today had put on his body, and he was grateful to Steve for keeping him in check. He’d probably have worked another 12 hours if not for him.

And he really was run-down after all the excitement today. Sleep would him good, he had to remind himself. No use in working himself ragged when he could approach the project with fresh eyes tomorrow. This was progress, he realized. A year ago nothing could have dragged him away from his work. Now he was willingingly following Steve, and it felt right.

He’d nearly made it back to his bedroom when he realised he’d left his watch on the workshop table. He half-considered leaving it for tomorrow, but he felt a little naked without it, and it bugged him to not feel the cool weight of it against his skin. Tony sighed and doubled back to retrieve it, padding quietly in the dim hallways, careful not to disturb anyone’s sleep. 

When he made it back to the workshop, he could see the green goo glowing ever so slightly in the darkened room. It reminded him of a galaxy almost. It really was gorgeous.

He switched on an overhead light and found his gunmetal grey watch exactly where he’d thought it had been left, and made short work of putting it on. The heavy chill of it felt comforting. He was turning to walk back to his room when something caught his eye.

A creamy white page of Steve’s sketchbook. 

It lay open on his stuffed chair, and Tony hadn’t meant to see it, hadn’t wanted to pry, but it was what was drawn on the page that truly made him take notice.

It was himself, in soft blacks and greys of the charcoal Steve often worked in. Tony hunched over his desk, eyes concentrated on the containers of various chemicals before him, his delicate hand grasping at a pipette. His features were gorgeous, a striking mixture of hard lines and soft curves. Steve had apparently paid special attention to his lashes and lips, they glinted in the drawing’s light source and gave him an almost ethereal appearance.

His breath hitched, caught in his throat and he felt a pang of guilt. This was utterly gorgeous, but Steve had never intended for him to see this, he knew. He must have forgotten to close his work up in his tired state. 

Tony tenderly stroked the creamy background, the paper courser than he’d imagined. He was careful not to smudge any of the charcoal, lest he mar something so perfect. 

Ever so gently, he turned the page, his fingers trembling and heart pounding against his reactor. He knew this was wrong. Knew this might be a betrayal of Steve’s trust, but he had to know, had to find out if he was right about this.

He carefully flipped back through pages and pages of sketches, some in charcoal, some in graphite pencil, a few in what appeared to be Tony’s fineliner drafting pens. 

Every single page was filled with Tony.

Every. 

Single.

Page. 

Tony laughing as he did routine maintenance on Dum-E.

Tony covered in engine grease as he rebuilt a motor for Steve’s bike.

Tony conked out in his chair, mouth open and what appeared to be drool dribbling down his cheek, embarrassingly.

Tony looking at the viewer with earnest eyes.

Pages and pages of Tony’s mouth, hands, even his delicate ears.

Steve had perfected every detail of his sculpted facial hair and the furrow in his brow when he was annoyed.

He’d spent hours doing study after study of Tony. It was remarkably flattering to see the attention Steve had paid to him, even when he’d been too lost in his work to notice.

And then there were the suits, diagrams and blueprints for nearly every Iron Man Mark since Steve had begun hanging around the lab, it seemed. Some were technical and precise. Some were looser, more of a feeling than a replication of the details. Tony loved these most out of all the suit sketches.

Guilt gave way to something sweeter. Love. Tenderness. A warmth from being truly seen and accepted. He didn’t know exactly what all this meant, but he had an idea.

He gingerly left the sketch book on the page it had been open to, and turned off the light, a soft giddiness rising in his belly as he made his way back to bed.

He didn’t know what to do with this new found information, but just knowing was enough for now, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

The next day came far too soon for Tony’s liking, the sun’s glare beating in through his half-open blinds.

He grimaced in the brightness and grumbled, “Jarvis, engage Total Eclipse Blackout mode.”

“Yes sir,” the AI system responded, and Tony swore there was a hint of judgement in it’s tone.

Special blackout shades covered the windows though, and he sighed in relief, snuggling back into his warm covers, letting sleep take him again.

When he woke, hours later, it was still pitch black and he felt groggy, disoriented even.

He stumbled into something that approximated a cohesive outfit and walked to the workshop, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and popping his neck to get the crick out.

Tony immediately zeroed in on the fact that the notebook still lay open, the sketch of him easily viewed from his desk. He paid it no mind though, or at least pretended to. 

It he was being entirely honest, his fingers itched to get his hands on it again, but he settled into his work from last night, reviewing where he’d left off and what his focus today would be.

Hour passed, and he was finally making some decent progress when he heard Steve whistling down the hallway, the sound echoing louder and louder as he approached. It sounded suspiciously like the theme from Inception. They’d watched that movie last week, and Steve had been absolutely captivated by the story. He and Tony had spent a lazy afternoon arguing the details about the ending and discussing whether that kind of technology would be useful to develop. It had been a truly excellent afternoon in Tony’s opinion. 

He glanced at the chair, heat rising in his cheeks as Steve entered, a blissful smile on his face as he sipped from his coffee mug, another one proffered to Tony by way of his usual table slide method. He kept humming, and it was most definitely that song, Tony decided. He felt proud to have introduced Steve to a new favorite.

Steve’s expression faltered when he noticed the sketchbook, cast aside in his sleepiness. He glanced at Tony, who was suddenly making himself very busy with his work.

Plausible deniability, maintain plausible deniability, he thought to himself.  
Steve, apparently satisfied with Tony’s lack of reaction picked up the book, flipping to the next clean page, and plopped down into the chair. 

“Can I borrow a fine liner, Tones?” His voice was soft and gentle, and it made Tony melt a little inside.

He darted a look in Steve’s direction before handing him a glass full of assorted pens he used for drafting, which he kept around for the times he felt the need to do it old school style.

Steve murmured his thanks, and they settled into a comfortable silence. 

Tony found himself humming the song Steve had been whistling, and they passed the hours peacefully once more.

If Tony happened to be keenly aware that Steve was probably drawing him right now, Steve didn’t seem to notice, and besides, it’s not like this hadn’t happened every time Steve drew in the workshop. Tony just happened to know what his subject matter was now. 

Eventually, Steve broke the silence, setting his pens and the sketchbook down on the cold slab of floor with a quiet thud. “You saw it, right?” It was barely more than a whisper, but Tony knew he’d heard it correctly.

“Saw what?” he asked, trying in earnest to keep staring at the chemical analysis results on his tablet in front of him.

“The drawing. The one I accidentally left out last night.”

Silence spanned between them, Tony was unsure of what to say, scared to implicate himself too deeply.

Eventually he settled on an equally hushed, “Yes.”

He heard Steve let out a huff of air, and from the corner of his eye could see him running his fingers through his hair, clearly flustered.

“You saw the rest, I’m assuming?” He didn’t sound mad. That was surprising to Tony. Didn’t sound upset at all. More like a statement of fact.

He hesitated again, before responding with another, “Yes.”

Tony closed his eyes, leaning back into his chair, embarrassment washing over him in waves. “I’m, I’m sorry Steve. I didn’t intend to, but I came back to grab my watch last night and it was just laying there. I never looked at it previously, but I saw the way you’d drawn me. How beautiful you’d made me, and I couldn’t resist. I never meant to break your trust.” He couldn’t bear to look at Steve now, the shame rising in his throat like hot acid.

“I, I think part of me wanted you to find it. I knew I’d never get the guts to show you myself. Part of me wanted you to know though.” Steve’s voice was gentle as he spoke, and Tony felt a sprig of hope nestle inside him at the words.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He turned to face Steve, his cheeks on fire and his hand shaking, and Steve was rising, leaving his chair to stride towards him, and it felt like the world might implode around him and he wouldn’t give a single shit about what happened. Because Steve was suddenly leaning down very close to him, his wavering breath close enough to feel.

Tony blinked, unsure of what to do next, so he reached out a tentative hand to cup Steve’s face, hoping he could communicate some level of reassurance that he felt the same way.

Steve leaned into the touch, his eyes slowly closing as he savored the way Tony’s hand felt on his cheek. His skin was soft and warm and perfect, and Tony was scared to do anything, lest he disturb the utter perfection that was Steve in this moment.

And then Steve was kissing him. It was cautious, almost afraid of what might come next, but to Tony it felt like what he imagined heaven must feel like. Not that he’d be going there after all the things he’d fantasized about doing with Steve.

He leaned into the embrace, hands winding around Steve’s neck, gently coming to rest in the hair at the nape of his neck. He smelled like lemons and sunshine. And he tasted even better. His lips were warm and wet and supple. Tony knew his own lips were probably a little chapped, but he pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on how goddamn good everything felt in this moment. 

He was kissing Steve Rogers. Correction, Steve had kissed him first, he was just returning the favor. And it felt so goddamn incredible that he briefly wondered why he’d spent the past few years doing anything besides kissing this gorgeous, perfect man. God, he really was an idiot, he’d been wasting his life before this moment, he thought to himself.

Steve relaxed, perhaps realizing Tony wasn’t backing up, wasn’t going to run. He gave a tentative lick to Tony’s lower lip, and that was all the indication Tony needed to stop holding back. He kissed Steve, a desperation growing in his chest. A need.

A need to be close to Steve, to feel him deeper, to taste him more than he ever thought possible. Steve’s hands had settled on his hips, pulling him even closer, till Tony was half out of his chair. 

He could feel his need growing, his cock pressing hard and wet against his jeans, and suddenly Steve’s hands were roaming, caressing the exposed skin between his waistband and where his shirt had risen up. His touch was light and sweet, but it made him feel things that he hadn’t felt in a long time, outside of his very private fantasies. 

Very private fantasies that just so happened to be about the man who was holding him, sucking on his bottom lip and groaning into his wet mouth in the most deliciously obscene way. 

Tony had his fair share of practice with kissing. Most of it good, some of it great, a few regrettable experiences too. He could tell Steve was inexperienced. He lacked the finesse and calm that Tony had perfected over the years. But god, he made up for it with intensity. He kissed Tony like his very life depended on showing just how badly he wanted, no, needed him. There was something unrestrained in the way he grasped onto Tony’s hip and shoulder, as if desperate to find a way to show him how badly he needed him. It left Tony breathless, knowing that Steve could become that unraveled because of him. Well, and it didn’t help that Tony had hardly come up for air since Steve had first initiated the kiss.

He could feel a tight strain in his lungs and finally broke away, panting and gasping as oxygen filled his lungs. He felt a pang of loss at the separation from Steve, and let his hands roam up his hair, playing with the silky golden strands. Steve had been growing it out, just enough that he had something to grip onto, thankfully, and he stood up fully now, peering up into Steve’s searching blue eyes.

He was incredibly aware in this moment of just how much of a height difference there was between them. Having to crane his neck a little more than he’d like he’d admit. It made him feel small and safe in way he’d not felt before. Like Steve could do anything to him and he wouldn’t be able to stop it, but Steve would never do anything to him that he didn’t want, and there was a sweet comfort in knowing that. In knowing that despite all his super soldier strength, Steve would never use it against him, would prioritize Tony’s comfort and safety over his own. It had always been that way, really. 

“So…” and Steve looked so shy, so cautious as he spoke that it made Tony want to laugh. How could he not know just how badly Tony wanted this too, especially after that scorching kiss?

“Yes?” Tony encouraged.

And Steve just laughed, a quiet, nervous laugh, and bent down to touch his forehead to Tony’s, his bashful smile relaxing into an easy grin.

“Been waiting an awful long time to do that,” Steve’s voice was rougher now, deeper and huskier than Tony had ever heard it before. And it did things to him, things to make him crave Steve so badly. 

Tony stepped closer, his chest jutting up against Steve’s, and gave a small thrust of his hips towards him as well. The resulting widening he saw in Steve’s eyes was well worth it. He ground against him, and could feel the other man’s hardness against his own. 

Steve let out a jutting breath, as if trying to regain control of himself. That gave Tony all sorts of filthy ideas, and he ground against him once more, this time slower, more sultry. He bit his lip just enough to catch Steve’s attention, and the hungry look that flashed across his face made Tony’s cock pulse.

Steve’s hands roamed lower, lower, until they caressed the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his pants, and that hungry look deepened.

Tony gave him a little nod, and that was apparently all Steve needed to know before letting his fingers nimbly undoing the button and zipper on his tight black jeans. 

He felt a wave of relief as his cock was suddenly freed, still straining a bit against his boxer-briefs, but nothing compared to the prison that his pants had been. 

And then Steve was palming him through the fabric, his precome leaking through it and it was the most delicious kind of slick friction. He muffled a groan into Steve’s chest. 

God, his pecs really were magnificent. Tony could feel the hard button of his nipples through the too-tight shirt, and playfully gave one a lick, wanting to see Steve’s reaction. 

And what a reaction it was. 

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, before rolling back just a touch in a look of pure pleasure. He was so reactive, Tony realized, every touch like electricity to Steve. How long had it been since he’d been with someone, he wondered.

Steve kept teasing him through the fabric of his underwear, and it was ridiculously not fair. He wanted more, needed more, but it didn’t seem like Steve was in any rush to get to the main event. What a cock tease.

He groaned, wanting more. No, needing more. He’d spent so fucking long thinking about this, never expecting his fantasies to be acted out. And fuck, this was really happening. 

Steve grinned and finally took pity on him, rolling the fabric down his hips, and he could feel cool air as his cock was freed, aching and dripping and so so eager for more. 

Steve grasped onto him, delicate and sweet in the most Steve way possible. But then that naughty glint in his eyes returned and he started stroking, and fuck fuck fuck. Where had he learned that? How could the literal beacon of wholesome American values be so goddamn incredible at stroking him off? 

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t. But Tony was not about to complain because Steve was going faster, putting more pressure on the underside of his tip with each upward stroke and he didn’t know how much more he could take until he lost it. 

Succumbed to whatever kind of sin this was. 

Steve caressed each inch of his cock, exploring the shaft and the shiny, tender tip. He’d leaked enough precome that it spread easily down his length, and Steve took special care to circle the very tip with his thumb and let Tony’s slick coat them both, it was messy and sticky and Tony had never known how hot seeing Steve’s hand covered in his slick could be. 

Mindlessly, he rutted up into Steve’s hand, chasing the sensation. He probably looked like a desperate mess, but he didn’t care, not when it felt this good. 

Hot pressure curled inside him and he couldn’t take it anymore. A low moan rumbled from somewhere deep inside his chest and then he was coming, spurting thick white fluid all over Steve’s hand, some of it splattering up onto his stomach and dripping down, a slimy mess of pleasure and satisfaction. 

Steve, to Tony’s utter delight lifted his hand to his mouth, jutted out his tongue to kitten lick at Tony’s come, and hummed happily. 

Then he offered his hand to Tony, the implication clear on his face. He wanted Tony to clean off his hand, to lick him clean of Tony’s own come, and that was perhaps the hottest thing Tony could possibly imagine in this moment. 

He licked tentatively, finding that he tasted salty with just a hint of sweetness. The dark look in Steve’s eyes told him that Steve was enjoying this just as much as Tony, and he studied every slow movement as Tony made a show of licking him clean, suckling on each finger, making steady eye contact as each of Steve’s digits popped out of his pop with an audible wet sound. 

Apparently Steve was into dirty, messy sex, the kind that left you sweaty and covered in come. Tony could work with this. 

“More, I need more.” His voice came out raspy and wrecked. “I want you to use me, Steve. Fuck me until I can’t take any more and just keep going. Fuck me until I can’t think straight, can’t speak, till I’m a puddle of mindlessness. I want to give you that. Please let me give you that. Please.” Tony knew he sounded desperate, but that was the point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to half-ass a chance to be absolutely wrecked by this gorgeous man.

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, there’s more to come. I was hoping to have it all done by the 18th, but I have big plans for where this is going. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, I always love getting comments and kudos.


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